


God Rest Ye, Merry Witches & Warlocks

by jessequicksters



Series: Devil's Coven [6]
Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), DCU (Comics), Hellblazer, Lucifer (Comic), Lucifer (TV), Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: & other characters in cameos, Christmas, Christmas Blues, Established Relationship, F/M, Festive Folkloric Monsters, Gremlins, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Power Swap, Snowed In, Spooky, Substance Abuse (referenced)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters
Summary: A collection of short Christmas stories, starring the Devil's trio: Lucifer Morningstar, John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara. (With an imp that tries to cook them alive, a visit from Santa Claus, and gremlins on the loose.)I. A CRACKING FLESH ROASTII. SANTA'S BREAK INNIII. GREMLINS, SAUSAGE-MAKERS & MORTICIANS
Relationships: John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Zatanna Zatara
Series: Devil's Coven [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989967
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. A Cracking Flesh Roast

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a little festive fic for these three in typical fashion: with a dash of scares, angst & existential crises. Hope you enjoy!

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas,” John spat at the ground and watched as the blood seeped into the white snow. His arms and legs were still tied to the post. It was too numbingly cold to even feel his own fingers; they were shaking too much to be able to cast a proper flame.

He watched as the dastardly scarecrow, imp, demonic creature of yuletides past, continued stoking the fire on these mountainous plains. He looked innocent enough, with the face of a young boy, neatly trimmed hair and dressed like a milkman from the Grimm’s fairy tales, but John could smell malevolence from a mile away.

He couldn’t remember where he was before, or how he got here, just that it involved a couple of butter beers, minced pies, Christmas songs in a pub with—

Zee. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He noticed another body tied to the post across from him, from behind the large fire. It had to be her. If it were, it would mean that she was still alive.

“Oi!” John called out to the boy. “Anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to leave people out in the cold?”

The boy turned around, gleefully scuttling towards John. He spoke with a gentleness to his voice, an almost angelic whisper that could make snowflakes dance.

But John knew that even the most beautiful angels had nasty fuckin’ teeth.

“John Constantine! Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, flesh, flesh,” he giggled, bright and sinister.

“Right,” John replied, descending deeper into unease. “What’s this all about then? You don’t look like a demon. Something tells me you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“Oh! Very clever, very perceptive, always. Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve had flesh, flesh, flesh.”

Bollocks. So, this one had to be a cannibal, too.

He came up closer to John, as if to inspect him, his arms underneath his rolled-up coat sleeves, his shivering chest underneath his torn shirt, as if shredded by a giant pitchfork.

“I crave flesh, flesh, flesh, every second of every day, but I must wait so long to feed every year. I smelled your magic from afar, but it is still not enough, no, not nearly enough. You and the other one—I sense more. . . there is one more that will make this meal most worthy of a winter’s celebration and keep me sleeping peacefully until next year’s festive season.”

He stroked his fingers against the coven symbol etched on John’s wrist. A part of him had always known that this symbol would end up attracting more unwanted attention from the less savoury types of the world, but then again, it’s also saved his sorry arse more often than not.

He snorted. This one might just solve itself, in that case.

“Careful not to bite off more than you can chew, lad,” John croaked.

“Oh, there is no such thing as too much flesh, flesh, flesh,” the boy grinned, clasping John’s wrist with an iron-hot grip that seared into his veins.

His entire body wanted to writhe in pain, but it was too bloody cold for even the most basic of involuntary reactions. The boy quickly pottered over to Zee and John heard a muffled scream from over there. John couldn’t bear seeing her get hurt, especially when he was so useless in the moment.

He kept on trying to cast a flame, or to use any of his elemental spells, but he was out of luck—the little imp had even nicked his lighter in his pocket. (Really crossed the line there.)

John watched as the flame grew larger and larger, and a familiar shape started to form inside of it. It was the shape of a body he had become infinitely familiar with, for better or for worse. A form that he had once cowered from, but had grown to take comfort in, on blazing hot nights and deathly cold mornings.

The Devil of the hour, Lucifer himself, stepped out of the flames and into the snow in his freshly pressed black suit.

He looked around him with mild annoyance, taking a breath, as if to say something, before casting his gaze upon John. Ah, there it was: the look of quiet realization, at yet another mess he’d been dragged into. Just trying to even up the score between mankind and the Devil himself, is all.

The imp, finally realizing exactly _who_ he had summoned, twisted his face in a rather unfortunate manner.

“Darling, Johnny, I see you’ve made friends with Hans Trapp here!” Lucifer said, gesturing at the boy, still frozen in spot by the fire.

“That who it is, eh?” John replied.

Lucifer turned to Hans, who was the height of his chest, shrinking in size. “You greedy little gremlin. You know I am not the biggest fan of feasts in honour of my half-brother, but even I’d say that your menus tend to go a little too far. Come now, Hans, it used to be children in the Alps, now you’re feeding on warlocks and witches? And for what? A little more zest in your fleeting and miserable existence?”

“Lord Lucifer, I—I did not think you were the one who would be bound to this coven of mortal flesh, flesh, flesh.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, sighing. “Please, just Lucifer is fine these days. But yes, I have become one with flesh and blood in more ways than one, especially with these two,” he gave Zee a little wave from across the mountain, before turning back to John. “So, I’m afraid you can’t have them. They’re mine.”

He grabbed the little boy by the throat and tossed him in the fire like a piece of yule log. He snapped his fingers as the regular flames morphed into Hellfire, destroying every part of the ghost’s body and soul until it was nothing but ash in the snow.

Jesus. (‘Tis the season, right.) Even John didn’t see that one coming.

As Lucifer walked over to John, seemingly pleased with himself, John felt the ropes around his arms, legs, and body untying, as if by magic. He dropped to the ground, but not before Lucifer caught him. He looked over his shoulder to find Zee standing there in her fishnet tights, hugging herself for warmth. Her hands glowed a soft blue light that was quickly fading, after the magic had worn off.

“Miss Zatara, I assure you I was about to untie you next, but Johnny here looked like he’d just been popped out of a freezer,” Lucifer said. “Seemed like you didn’t need my assistance, in the end.”

She eventually also collapsed to the ground and Lucifer pulled her in for warmth, as her and John snuggled under his wings.

“I shouldn’t have taken that long to get out of those ropes. Dad would’ve never let me hear the end of it,” she said, face already frozen white.

“Well, your father could never rescue you as well as _you_ can,” Lucifer smiled, wings ruffling to get ready to fly. “Now, lets get you both someplace a little warmer, shall we? Perhaps there’s a cozy little inn at the bottom of this mountain.”

John felt Lucifer’s arms pulling him in closer as John buried his face in the crook of his neck, where his skin was hot and he could feel his beating pulse against his cold lips. For anyone who ever wondered: the Devil smelled like warm oak and dark spices; his blood was sweeter than port wine (and yes, John had tasted it); and there really was nothing like the comfort of being in his arms.

Now, it was often the case that one would end up in the Devil’s embrace after a brush with death, but still. He’d learned over the years there were far worse places to be.


	2. Santa's Break Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also expanded the 'verse in this series to incorporate some details from the Lucifer comics. References to Lucifer Vol. 3 (Wild Hunt), as a little Easter egg - particularly re: The House That the Devil Built!

Lucifer had never exactly seen himself as a caretaker of any sorts. Hell was his domain, once, and Dad did attempt to bind him to it, but even throughout the millennia, Lucifer never felt as if it truly belonged to him. He often wondered what it would feel like, to have something of his own: a home, for one.

After surviving a rather unpleasant run-in with a flesh-eating ghost of Christmas past, they found their way to a little inn called ‘SANTA’S BREAK INN’ at the bottom of the snow-covered mountains. There was something old and nauseatingly bright about the place, with decorations in clashing colours strewn about the place with no care nor coordination. Lucifer had built a house once, in an attempt to avert some grim prophecy and protect an old god, but the god ended up dead inside and the house was torn down. Wherever the Devil had set foot in could never be a safe haven.

After bribing the woman at the front desk to let them have their last room, even when it had been booked out for another guest, Lucifer gently led John and Miss Zatara up the stairs and into their small, but rather cozy, room. He got the hot water running in the bath and helped them undress before they both climbed in, relishing in the heat.

“Shame there’s no room for three,” Lucifer said, pointing at the bath, smiling at them. “I’ve got plenty of other ways to thaw the body and spirit, but I digress. I shall let you two thoroughly defrost yourselves first.”

Miss Zatara opened one eye just as Lucifer turned around to leave them in peace. He’d gotten used to the rather fragile state of mortals, recognized when they were at their tether’s end and needed to rest.

But sometimes, they pulled out the most delightful of surprises.

 _“Dnapxe htab,”_ she said, with ease, as the bath morphed and grew to her will. Its newly expanded edge hit Lucifer just below the knees.

“Get in,” John said, splashing water onto him.

On the contrary to what most people thought, Lucifer was capable of taking orders.

Miss Zatara continued her spellcasting as Lucifer removed himself of his clothes and stepped in the tub. She went on to adorn the bathroom with Christmas lights, a strange purple fizz that took over the water in the tub and spread the scent of calming lavender. She looked rather pleased with herself, smiling in that sweet way she did whenever she pulled off a new trick in front of a difficult crowd.

“Show off,” John simply said, kissing her on the cheek.

“We still need drinks,” she said, stretching her legs out in the tub as Lucifer leaned in to put his arm around her, floating in closer.

“I’d like something bubbly, please,” Lucifer said, lifting a finger up at John.

“Make that two, babe,” she said.

“Alright, you spoiled lot,” John sighed and got out of the tub. “Apologies, me hands are still a bit stiff to conjure anything, so I think I’ll wander on down to the bar downstairs to pick something up. Besides, we should be in the spirit of giving a little bit of coin to our innkeepers, since we’ve already swindled our way in.”

“Ah, yes, do feel free to grab my wallet—” Lucifer said, just as John whipped it out of the pockets of his trousers on the floor.

“Ta.”

He grabbed the single bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door and stepped into the white pair of slippers underneath it. He looked tired, still, but had perked up significantly since Lucifer found him deep in winter’s snow. John Constantine was one of those people who always looked like they needed a little more sleep, but couldn’t help but stay awake to look out for those helpless to the demons of the night.

As John left, Lucifer turned to Miss Zatara, also looking rather sleepy, despite her usually lively disposition.

“So, what _were_ you and Johnny doing before I found you two nearly being burned at the stake? You know, there are simpler ways of getting my attention… even though I know I haven’t been the best at visiting,” Lucifer admitted, regretfully.

She smiled, resting a hand on his chest. “It’s all right. We were in Camden market with Chas, feeling sorry for ourselves for having no family left to celebrate Christmas with. It ended up being a nice change of pace, being kidnapped by that thing out there. You know, something about mortal peril being closer to life than life itself can be.”

Lucifer frowned. “Oh, dear, you _have_ got a terrible case of the Christmas blues. Dad’s fault, really, for cooking up such a fuss about the birth of you-know-who. You can’t put someone up on a pedestal and expect everyone else not to suffer from some form of inadequacy. Anyways, I simply won’t have my favourite magician looking so glum, on stage or off.”

He knew a thing or two about easing the mind from sorrows. He brought Miss Zatara’s face in closer for a quiet kiss, as the bath continued to steam up the room. Lucifer’s thumb moved from under her jaw, to the back of her neck, where their shared mark rested. It seemed so long ago, when they decided to bind themselves together to this coven—to keep John alive from certain death, but that shortly passed, and still, none of them felt like severing their ties to one another.

Perhaps that was why she was feeling rather more downcast than usual. Lucifer had sensed a similar feeling in John, and if he were being honest with himself, it could be entirely possible that he had been afflicted with the same condition as well. He’d been feeling left out of all the Detective’s usual Christmas activities; Lux was beginning to lose some of its charm; Amenadiel and Linda were busy with the offspring; even Maze had seemed to find a newfound sense of belonging, among the new demons she’d made friends with across the multiverse.

In any case, one shouldn’t dwell. Lucifer’s eyes met Miss Zatara’s tentatively, “If I may, darling, I’d like to know what you desire, so I can try give it to you.”

“I don’t know,” she said, candidly.

Lucifer blinked, taken aback. “Right. Is this thing on?”

“You’re out of practice,” she teased.

“What have you done to yourself, Miss Zatara,” Lucifer asked, examining her eyes more carefully this time, brushing away strands of wet hair away from her face. After a better look, the answer was clear.

“You’ve consumed some sort of elixir, haven’t you? I can see it now, in your eyes. You’re not just tired. You’ve blocked the pathways to your deepest desires. Did Johnny drink the same thing?”

She shrugged. “It should wear off soon, I think. It seemed like a good idea at the time—that witch was pretty persuasive. Sold us some nice teas, too.”

“Yes, though not as persuasive as me. Come, look into my eyes again, we’ll sort this out.”

“Maybe I’m not in the mood to indulge in my deepest desires right now,” she argued.

“Well, what good does suppressing it do? How am I meant to give you what you want if you can’t—won’t—tell me?”

“Lucifer,” she said, very frankly, and sternly, “not all of us can get a one way window to other people’s souls and somehow, we manage. I know that you can probably overpower this elixir’s effects, but I really did drink it for a reason, so will you maybe just, wait, until I’m ready to talk about this?”

It was quiet for a moment, but Lucifer eventually nodded. He didn’t understand Miss Zatara’s reasoning, but if that was what she wanted. She seemed to slowly relax again as Lucifer pulled her in between his legs; she leaned back onto his chest and brought his arms around her stomach.

“What’s taking John so long?” she asked.

“Oh, knowing Johnny, probably got roped into some sort of a fruitless challenge at the bar.”

“Yeah, probably.”

It eventually got to a point where Lucifer and Miss Zatara got out of the bath and dressed themselves again, feeling ready to go to bed. As she was busy adjusting a tiny wreath hanging from a nail next to the window, the door flew open as two cackling men poured through.

Lucifer whipped his head towards the door. “Oh, for Dad’s—John, don’t tell me this is—”

“Mr. Claus himself!” John laughed, pint in hand, gesturing at his new comrade. He was also covered in snow—again—though looking significantly more alive this time. “He was the one who was meant to have this room, so I said, right, let’s sit down and talk about this, sort something out, but good ol’ Santa wasn’t even mad, instead took us on a quick sleigh ride across the Northern Hemisphere!”

Lucifer was rather intrigued. Hadn’t seen the chap for a few centuries, either, though they did only meet in passing the one time, when a stowaway elf fell out of the sleigh and Santa went down to fetch them at the doors of Hell. Brokered some sort of a deal that was all paid off by now. Santa Claus had good credit, Lucifer could confirm.

“What are you doing in this little corner of the world, then? I thought you lived at the North Pole. Besides, aren’t you meant to be delivering presents this very moment?”

The jolly old fellow laughed with a ‘ho-ho-ho!’ that sounded straight out of a postcard. It was nauseating. “Finished the rounds early this year, we’ve been feeding our reindeer with some of that good stuff conjured by the angels.”

“Beg your pardon, are you telling me that my siblings are feeding your reindeer celestial speed?”

He ignored Lucifer and walked over to Zatanna by the window. “Oh! Make sure that wreath doesn’t fall off, Miss. Keeps my naughty brother, Krampus, out.”

Zatanna’s eyes widened. “This little thing wards off Krampus? I thought it looked like a protection charm of sorts, but I didn’t recognize the braiding pattern of these leaves.”

“Indeed! Designed by me! I built this little inn as a place to spend more times with my loved ones. Not the elves, or Mrs. Claus—we see plenty of each other—but my favourite mortals. The ones who I run into on my travels; who may or may not know who I really am; or those whom I’ve watched grow up over the years. I may not be around for the rest of the year, but I like to give them this address and pop in every Christmas to catch up with them.”

“Isn’t the whole point that the kids don’t see you dropping down their chimney?” John asked.

“Oh, nothing wrong with rewarding people for their faith, every now and then,” Santa replied.

“Why build something so permanent when you’ll just outlive them? Isn’t it better to just, stay where you know things will never change?” Miss Zatara asked.

“Ho, my dear,” Santa placed his two gloved hands on her shoulder. “It’s the fleeting nature of these connections, that makes them so precious. If I could, I would build a house with every person I loved. Even if we only spent a day there, we could say that it was ours.”

Lucifer and John approached Santa from behind, interrupting his little speech. “Thank you for your sermon, Father Consumerism, but we were expecting a little less jabber and a little more, oh, I don’t know, presents?” Lucifer said, looking expectantly at him.

He laughed, jubilantly, “Why, of course! It took a lot of work from John, here, to convince me that you all deserve presents.”

“Of course we don’t exactly fit the target demographics, age-wise, but do continue, are you telling me that I’ve been nice?” Lucifer asked.

John shook his head. “Nah, mate.”

Santa replied, “No, certainly not.”

“Oh?” Lucifer replied.

“But I do believe that as a collective, you have all done good things with your gifts, in trying to bring about balance to the world and to magic itself, which, of course, I rely on for my enterprise.”

“You must have so many tricks up your sleeve, Santa,” Miss Zatara smiled, arms crossed.

“More than you can imagine, and I’ll never tell.” He winked, as she nodded in satisfaction. “So, as a sign of my gratitude, some treats, from the North Pole. Baked by my dear wife and brewed by my elves, you’ll never quite taste baked goods; nor drinks like this, again!”

A group of elves suddenly rushed into the door and started setting the tables with an array of treats and bottles of drinks, before rushing out the door in the blink of an eye. Incredible. It was as if they were never there. How did Santa get to work with such excellent elves, while Lucifer was cursed with incompetent demons back in Hell?

Santa eventually said goodbye and joined the rest of the crew downstairs to get merry for the rest of the evening. Miss Zatara and John seemed content enough, admiring all the little treats and shoving them in their mouths and drinking to their hearts’ content. Why, the Devil certainly couldn’t argue with a little bit of indulgence.

It was the subject of their desires that still bothered Lucifer, even as they all ate off every family member of the gingerbread house together, laughing at the crumbled state of the empty house that remained. The empty house, it reminded him a little bit of—them.

Lucifer didn’t need to draw out anyone’s desires to truly know that they were all feeling fulfilled right now. And even if anyone had any deep, hidden desires, within them, was it not enough to simply be with them in the moment? To show them that whatever it is they could possibly want, that you were present, ready and willing. Perhaps, that was even more important than reaching to grapple with an elusive desire that the other person hadn’t even fully understood yet.

Covens were always meant for close connections. The longer the members spent apart, the more the magic faded, leaving an aching feeling inside. Whenever they were together, the highs were rapturous, but with every uncertain goodbye, the lows fell harder. Lucifer had tried to ignore it, but it was clear that they were all starting to feel a little unstable from it. It was perhaps the least obvious with John, a man who suppress lifetimes worth of pains with a dry pint and a laugh, but Lucifer sensed a heaviness in his heart, too.

“Luci,” John said, sleepy and full, lying next to him in bed, as Miss Zatara spooned John from behind.

“Hm?” Lucifer responded, barely awake. He turned to see both of their bright eyes in the night.

“You’re not a bad chap to be in bed with, you know.”

Lucifer laughed. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Nah, I meant—Zee and I, we always seem to sleep better with you around. No nightmares or the sort. Least, not as often as I get them when I’m on my own.”

“Ah, I see. Well, the Devil’s always here to lighten the heavy heart, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Do we do enough for you?” Miss Zatara asked.

It seemed like Lucifer wasn’t the only one who was going through a crisis of curiosity. “If that’s your roundabout way of asking me if I've got everything I want, Miss Zatara, why don’t you ask. Happy to answer, anytime, darling.”

 _“Llet em tahw uoy erased,”_ she said.

His mind felt a strong pull as the words spilled out, “I want to build a house. For the three of us. We wouldn’t be there all the time and I can’t say how long we’ll stay like this until the next inevitable disaster sabotages things—more likely the culprit will be one of us—but I want to build something that will last, even if we don’t. It’ll be ours.”

He paused, thinking it was over, but continued once more, “I also want to be someplace where people wouldn’t be able to rudely interrupt us all the time. Miss Zatara, your father’s ghost barges in most nights when we’re at your mansion; Maze, the Detective, the offspring, and the entirety of Los Angeles seems to have free access to my penthouse; Orchid keeps poking their head through the walls in the House of Mystery; even bloody Santa Claus manages to find us in the middle of nowhere!”

“Mmm, to be left the fuck alone, for once,” John concurred. “Though, don’t rag on Santa. He was a top bloke.”

“I’d like that,” Miss Zatara said. “Never had a place of my own that wasn’t, well, my family mansion or an apartment that was nothing more than a fancy storage space for my things.”

Lucifer was pleased, then. “Right. Well, let me sleep on it. It’s been a while since I’ve built anything by hand.”

John reached out for his hand, fingers intertwining in between, and shut his eyes, lashes brushing against his chest. Lucifer rested his other hand over his ashy blonde hair and stroked a finger against the bridge of Miss Zatara’s nose, pressed into the back of John’s head. _Mortals_ , Lucifer sighed. What could you do but love them?


	3. Gremlins, Sausage Makers & Morticians

Zatanna ducked as another wave of gremlins started crawling onto the tables in the indoor Christmas market. Well, this little outing wasn’t going as planned at all. Lucifer was guiding everyone of the tent as John began conjuring some webs to trap them in. Zatanna cast a freezing spell towards to keep them still, but the webs that John were using were made of pure sunlight, which counteracted the effects.

 _“Sbew nethigt,”_ Zatanna said, changing tactics to offer John a boost. It was a reactionary move, which she quickly regretted, “Wait! Won't these kill them?”

“They ripped into the man who was stuffing my sausages!” John said, as Zatanna glanced behind her and found the scene of the crime: a man with his guts emptied out of his stomach, blood trailing down the wooden floors.

“Never feed them before midnight,” she cringed, trying not to throw up at the sight.

Lucifer approached as the net of gremlins constricted tighter around them. Zatanna could only hope there weren’t more lurking around. She could already count more than two dozen inside the net. She still wasn’t comfortable killing them; they weren’t always monsters, just poorly handled creatures, that was all. As a lifelong vegetarian, there were lines she couldn't cross, even for vicious gremlins.

“Ease off the sunlight, John, please,” she said, as John reluctantly obliged.

“Not going to hold them without,” Lucifer pointed out, unhelpfully. “Sharp teeth.”

“We need a reverse transformation spell,” Zatanna said, mentally searching the archives for something that could work.

“Devil to angel spell,” John then said, glancing at Lucifer. “How do you do it? Transform out of your Devil-form?”

Lucifer looked appalled. “With a lot of therapy and a great amount of self-determination, which, these little creatures are severely lacking. Honestly, John, to compare me to these—”

“Got it, Hungarian revealing spell, to return them to their true form,” John said. _“Fold es a levego, hogy igaz legyen reveal, A titok.”_

“Wait a second, the premise of this spell operates under the assumption that this isn’t their true form. Wouldn’t one argue that whatever form one chooses to take, in the moment, is the truest to themselves they could be?”

“Not the time for philosophy, Luci,” John said. “Just repeat the bloody spell.”

“He might have a point,” Zatanna said, watching as the gremlins were slowly breaking out of the net. “But then again, we might not have the time. _Fold es a levego, hogy igaz legyen reveal, A titok.”_

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “All right, but don’t say that I didn’t bloody tell you so. _Fold es a levego, hogy igaz legyen reveal, A titok.”_

They all said it one more time, together, and the gremlins slowly morphed back into their more sedate, adorable, Mogwai forms. Zatanna went over to the net and cut an opening into it, picking one up in her arms. It was so fluffy. It looked at her with its big, brown eyes, and cuddled her tight.

“Oh, they’re so cute,” she pouted, turning to the side to face Lucifer and John, who both lifted their hands up in the air and stepped back.

“No bloody chance in Hell,” John said, reaching for a cigarette in his pocket.

“Agreed,” Lucifer said. “I’ll invite the rest of the village back in, although we might need to clean up our sausage master on the ground first.”

He pointed at the poor man on the ground as a colour of guilt washed over John’s face. Zatanna instantly recognized that look.

“It wasn’t your fault, John,” she said. “Most people should know by now not to feed these little guys before midnight.”

John took a long drag of his cigarette and walked over the body. “Can’t save all the idiots of the world. Would you mind, love? Bit of a mess, and I’m no good at putting broken things back together.”

Zatanna put the creature down as it hurried off with the rest of its pack to run out of the tent. She checked the clock on the wall—safely well past midnight by now. Lucifer came over to examine the body.

“I can do it,” he said. “I’ve become rather familiar with the ins and outs of mortal anatomy thanks to Miss Lopez, so I can try and pull this chap back together. Should be like stuffing a sausage, am I right?”

“I’ll do it with you,” Zatanna said, as they both used their magic to put him back together and make him look as clean, and as whole, as they could. It was oddly calming, restoring a dead body like this, bringing it back to as dignified a state it could've been.

John nodded, satisfied. "Right. His family deserved at least this."

Zatanna didn’t exactly have much experience with the finalities of life: her mother abandoned her when she was a child, and her father was now a ghost. Closure was a word that liked talking back. Her relationship with John could even be compared to a casket that kept opening and closing at its whim.

She often couldn’t fully admit to what she desired, because her desires were intrinsically tied to her fears, and there was nothing she feared more than being the cause of someone’s grief. It was the fear of being the person who might lead to someone’s undoing in the end, which, when it came to John Constantine and the Devil—she’d rather not imagine.

John leaned down to inspect the freshly tidied body, seemingly impressed by how they pulled it together; Zatanna felt surprised, too, as did Lucifer, it seemed. Perhaps it was best not to dwell on imagining a future where this could all fall into ruin; start patching up their wounds before worrying about new ones; and accepting that they were here, they were together, and they were doing their best.

**EPILOGUE**

Zatanna woke up in the middle of the night screaming, after being surrounded by visions of Hell and torture and eternal pain. She found John and Luci, awake, sat up on the bed and talking among themselves.

John turned towards her and stroked her head, gently. “It’s all right, love. You’re with us.”

“Let me guess, you were consumed by terrifying dreams of eternal damnation?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Seems like someone is disapproving of our plans to settle down,” Lucifer gritted, glancing up at the ceiling. “No matter, we’ll just need to fortify our walls even stronger.”

This couldn’t be happening. Zatanna had never been in a relationship where _she_ was the one who parents didn’t approve of their children dating. Especially for it to be God himself? Jesus, what had she gotten herself into?

 _“Og kcab ot peels,”_ she said to herself. She felt exhausted, as if the day had completely drained her of her magical energy. She noticed, as her thoughts continued racing, that her spell hadn’t worked. Why wasn’t it working?

 _“Peels,”_ she tried again, towards John and Lucifer this time, still to no avail.

“Um, right, love. So, dunno how to say this, really, but it seems like we’ve either done a cock up somewhere along to way, we've had our drinks spiked, or someone’s cursed us—” John started, as Zatanna pushed herself up to sitting.

“Definitely cursed,” Lucifer shook his head and turned to the side, inhaling a cigarette. “Or it’s that Hungarian spell I tried to tell you about. Must’ve gotten our lines crossed, or something.”

“John, what’s going on,” Zatanna asked.

 _“Sthgil no!”_ Lucifer said, as the entire room sparked with blinding bright lights that immediately fizzled out. “Hm, too much oomph?”

“What do you want, love?” John asked, eyes flashing red.

“I…” she slowly answered. “I want to know what the fuck is going on, and I want to know why everything hurts, and I want to know why my spells aren’t working like they should.”

As soon as the words spilled out, she realized exactly what had happened.

“I'm going to need a Latin dictionary your old spell book, aren’t I,” she asked John, who nodded sympathetically.

A million thoughts flooded Zatanna’s mind, but all she wanted to do was go back to bed and deal with this in the morning. She crawled back under the covers and murmured, “Lucifer, will you put me to sleep?”

 _“Teews smaerd, gnilrad,”_ the Devil whispered, as she fell into dreaming slumber.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


End file.
